


was, not is

by baekjiheon



Category: The Ever Afters Series - Shelby Bach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Paranormal, BUT OTHER THAN THAT THIS IS A ACCURATE HARVARD FIC, F/F, Ghosts, IN 4 PARTS BECAUSE 4 MEANS DEATH, IT HAS HIGH CEILING CO ED DORMS, ITS VERY AESTHATIC, NO CREEPY POND THO, Schizophrenia, Suicide, boii i was listening to beautiful ghost by nu'est and this happened, dont do it, edit: HOO BOY I LOV HARVARD, ghost!solange, i can see ghosts!mildred, this is fucking dark don't read it, well shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6441271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baekjiheon/pseuds/baekjiheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you freeze?” It isn’t a conventional greeting, but between the the two spirits it’s a comforting feeling.</p>
<p>“No. I drowned. Do you mind?” The words sound cold and cutting, but instead they are filled with undying love.</p>
<p>SUICIDE WARNING. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK</p>
            </blockquote>





	was, not is

**Author's Note:**

> Mildred has always been lonely since her spiritual companions vanished, but a new ghost that appears seems to know how to stay together forever.
> 
> INVOLVES SUICIDE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Mildred is gifted. She doesn’t think it, but that’s what the voices around her say, their sunken eyes and wilted smiles praising her talent and beauty and willingness to listen as they lament about their loved ones left behind. She tells them that their loved ones are fascinating, amazing, that they believe the souls that hang around her like a humid fog are in a better place. They coo at her patience and sweetness, the  _ adorable _ ten-year-old being loveliest (and only) company they’d had for a long, long time.

 

The adults that walk through the apparitions without a mere twitch think otherwise. They take her to clean places with clipboards and couches and ask her about her friends.  _ What are their names? Do they speak? How many friends have you made? _ To which Mildred answers eagerly because the spirits have been whining to her how  _ no one understands _ and she always wants to help. The doctors just furrow their eyebrows and jot down notes, then fire off more questions.

 

“It’s schizophrenia. We’re going to prescribe this medication for now and keep her under a careful watch in our facilities for a week.” The doctors and her parents nod gravely.

 

It becomes a vicious cycle of pills she obediently swallows (her Health teacher says drugs are bad, why is she eating so many?), therapy sessions she sits through, checkups she endures, but she find relief at the end of the day when she can exchange banter with the ghosts that surround her.

 

“Ah, but where did Rapunzel go? There are lesser and lesser of you as each day goes by,” she inquires. Rapunzel was like an older sister to her, a girl who died at nineteen years old in the 1800s and showed off a nasty scar on her neck. The spirits mill around, murmuring, coming up inconclusive. Day after day, prescription after prescription, psychologist after psychologist, the ghosts fade away until none are left. 

 

Mildred spends her days now with “real”, fleshy children who seem dull and ordinary compared to her childhood companions. Mildred is cured, but of what, she still doesn’t know.

 

* * *

 

Mildred is leaving. Her bags are packed and ready to go, moving on to college. A dorm has been picked out for her, and she stares out the window as the place where she grew up whirls and fades away into a highway, then the new city, then the wonderful old campus of Harvard. She runs into the high-ceiling campus dorms, taking the offset room on the right and effectively moving in, ready for her studies.

 

She meets her neighbors across the hall, a pair of boys who are quite agreeable and give her energy drinks (to mix with coffee) and help her get through all-nighters. It is on one of these nights she sees  _ her _ , a type of being she was told she’d never see again.

 

It starts with a feeling of being watched. An unnerving feeling, even though she’s never been afraid of the dark. She turns around multiple times, then shakes it off as an overactive imagination while she’s sleep deprived. But then when her closet door creaks, she sits upright and finally notices the faint figure on the corner of her neat, untouched bed. 

 

The apparition is a transparent girl in a blue, lacy dress and has an aristocratic aura. Mildred is fascinated, gazing curiously. 

 

“I’m cold. Can you warm me? I don’t want to dirty your clean sheets.” The girls smells like a lake, and seems blue.

 

Instead of addressing the ghost’s request, Mildred breathes out, “Did you drown?” before realizing it wasn’t the most conventional greeting.

 

“No. I froze. I am cold. Do you mind?” The short words are cutting and Mildred hurries and shakes her head numbly. She goes back to writing her late essay and the two sit in a damp silence that is louder than the heaving clicking of the laptop keyboard and faint echoing of music from a party upstairs. 

 

“Thank you.” It’s barely heard, but then again Mildred can hear whispers many others can’t.  The meek “you’re welcome” is just as soft and loud.

 

Mildred is in good company. Solange, as the ghost reveals her name to be, is a good listener and exchanges small talk to help Mildred relieve stress. Mildred never tells anyone of her friend, since she never feels the need and doesn’t want Solange to fade away like Rapunzel.

 

They sometimes go ice skating together in the winter, on the campus’ outdoor rink. Solange is indifferent to the cold, but Mildred sits down near the fire pit frequently. The Thai food truck is just near the rink, as is the mess hall, and after a quick meal Solange is urging Mildred to go back and she thinks she’s never been this happy in her life, and never wants to let it go.

 

Solange is the first person Mildred tells when she develops a crush on one of the boys across the hall. The girl scrunches up her nose and says, “I like the other one better. Bruhm? I’ve been here since the founding of this school, and Grubb is not an outstanding guys, trust me.” Mildred trusts her.

 

They spend their days in a happy friendship, and Mildred know that she is lucky for a friend like Solange.

 

* * *

 

Mildred is in love. She doesn’t know how, or when, but she is. All she knows that she’d follow her anywhere. So when Solange tells her to put on her favorite dress and leads her to the murky cold pond on December 31st, Mildred doesn’t bat an eye. 

 

“How old are you, Mildred?” Solange breathes out. It’s an illusion, because ghosts don’t breathe, and there is not puff of condensation coming out of her mouth. 

 

“Twenty-five.” Mildred looks at her friend, confused. “Why?”

 

Solange looks down. “That’s old I was when I died.” She suddenly seems weary, blue eyes scouring the icy water.

 

“Why are you telling me this? Why are we here?” Mildred presses on, truly confunded.

 

Solange takes her hand, leading her to the edges of the rocks. “Do you love me?” She looks into the human girl’s eyes, tugging on her coat. “Don’t you wish we were together forever, Mildred? Don’t you?”

 

Mildred suddenly realizes the true purpose of the trip. “Yes, Solange, I love you, yes, I want to stay with it’s just that--”

 

“Just  _ what _ , Mildred? What is it? We could live forever, just you and me. All you need to do is  _ die _ ! Come with me!” Solange is pleading, almost begging for Mildred just to take a few more steps forward, to let gravity take hold of her and drag her down, down, into the dark depths of the pond. 

 

The more Mildred thinks, the more she realizes that  _ she can’t think of reasons why not to _ . The whole idea scares her. “But, Solange--”

 

“But what, Mildred?” The tears on Solange’s face are freezing and her eyes are half shut, and she takes a step forward. Mildred pedals back and slips on a stone, teetering dangerously backwards and leaning over the pond, grabbing onto Solange’s bare arm. The dead girl’s blue lace dress blends in with the snowy landscape, and neither girl makes an attempt to pull Mildred from her precarious situation.

 

“Do you love me? Do you trust me?” The words are uttered, soft but loud and barely heard, and Mildred sighs, letting out a long puff of cold air before letting go of Solange’s arm. 

 

“Yes.” She fell into the cold water, and when the wave enveloped her, she didn’t hold her breath.

 

As the sun rose upon the old campus in the new year, the girl who could talk to ghosts became one herself.

 

* * *

 

“Did you freeze?” It isn’t a conventional greeting, but between the the two spirits it’s a comforting feeling.

 

“No. I drowned. Do you mind?” The words sound cold and cutting, but instead they are filled with undying love.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [one song (a song about love)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885929) by [smolqueernerds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolqueernerds/pseuds/smolqueernerds)




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